


Say Hello

by Quercusrobur



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Character Study, F/M, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Post-Episode: s11e08 The Witchfinders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-10-10 18:57:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17431670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quercusrobur/pseuds/Quercusrobur
Summary: He takes a step closer and she straightens; she is much shorter than usual, the top of her head only at his chin. Reaching out, Jack traces the chain of her earring delicately. “Well. I can work with that.”





	1. Chapter 1

Jack's first thought, after the oxygen clears the mental fog, is _safe_ ; it is quickly followed by a bewildering array of impressions that makes him wonder what made him think it at all. For a delirious moment he wonders if the Doctor has returned for him, finally; it's the light, and the feeling of safety. But that Doctor is long gone and instead of branching coral, the dim light illuminates an arching, cavernous space, a crystal cave, tantalisingly familiar shapes gleaming in the corner of his eye, an unfamiliar floral scent, or maybe sweet new leaves. Movement around, and a babble of voices, and a face peering down at him; a kid, human or near enough.

“Alright, then?” the kid asks, eyes wide.

“Alright,” Jack agrees, smiling winningly up at him. He smiles back.

“Better than he was, anyway,” someone else says, and Jack is working on sitting up to look around because so far they seem friendly when a third voice inexplicably says, “Jack!” and the associated person comes into view. She practically exudes motion, sleeves pushed up, blonde hair flying about her face as she crouches down to look at him. Jack has never seen her before in his life, and wonders briefly if one of the others is called Jack as well.

“How did I never realise you could send a mauve alert with that thing?” But no, she is clearly talking to him. “Feel like my to-do list just got longer. Well!” She stands up and whirls away again. “We like helping people, don't we, gang? Get up! Lazy layabout.”

Jack blinks.

The kid grins down at him and holds out a hand to help him up. “She's like that. I’m Ryan, that’s Graham,” he nods at an older man with a sandwich, “over there’s Yaz,” he indicates a woman Jack hadn’t noticed yet, with long dark hair and shrewd eyes, “and _that_ -”

“Oh, he knows me,” says the quicksilver… Time Lord, Jack realises, as she looks up at him with a grin, bent over what is, from his new vantage, clearly the console of the TARDIS. Jack can only credit his distraction and the very unexpected new look for his failure to recognise her; now that he is listening he can hear her song as clearly as ever. Of course he felt safe. This other unexpected new look, on the other hand… Eyebrows climbing, Jack slowly surveys, apparently, the Doctor.

“Doc? _Really?_ ”

“For some reason,” she says, grin turning a little sharper under his scrutiny, “that doesn’t bother me as much this time.”

He takes a step closer and she straightens; she is much shorter than usual, the top of her head only at his chin. Reaching out, Jack traces the chain of her earring delicately. “Well. I can work with that.”

“I assure you,” she says as he slides his hand into her hair - it fits her, flows with all her constant movement - “I live in anticipation of the day I witness the being you can’t _work with_ -” She doesn’t actually stop talking as he kisses her until his tongue is in the way, at which point she switches seamlessly to a kiss that leaves _him_ breathless, rather contrary to his intentions. When she pushes him away gently, he finds his left hand is clenched around the back of her braces; he leaves it there. With a smile more eyes than mouth and all for him, she admits, “It’s good to see you too.”

“Excuse me.” The other woman, Yaz, says from much closer than Jack was expecting. “Who are you, then?”

Smiling, Jack turns to her with a little bow. “Captain Jack Harkness, at your service.”

“Don't start,” the Doctor mutters. She tries to turn back to the console but Jack is still holding onto her. “ _Jack_.”

“What?” he says innocently, and continues to not let go. She makes a lovely armful. “I like the new look. Not that there was anything wrong with the old one.”

“Yasmin Khan,” says the dark-haired girl; she is younger than Jack had thought at first. “And you need to back off. You don't get to paw at her just because we rescued you.”

Unexpectedly the Doctor comes to his defence. “It's not like that, Yaz, the Captain and I go way back. I can… deal with him, perfectly well. But thank you. She's a police officer,” she adds in an aside to Jack, and jabs him with her elbow; he is smirking at all the comments he could have made if the Doctor hadn't amended her claim that she can _handle him_. “He would never think of treating me differently just because I'm a woman now.”

She seems to think this ought to be a reassuring statement; her companions, as far as Jack can tell, are finding it anything but. “I dunno, Doc, unless you have some more surprises for me I'm not going to be able to -”

She slaps a hand over his mouth, blushing faintly, and hisses, “Not helping.”

Graham points his sandwich at them. “You're telling us that's just how he says hello?”

“See?” the Doctor exclaims, prodding Jack in the chest emphatically. “Graham understands what I have to deal with.”

Grinning, Jack holds out his free hand. “Delighted to meet you as well -”

“I'll stay right here, thanks.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should point out that this is what John Barrowman says Captain Jack would say when he meets the Thirteenth Doctor. I am shocked, shocked I tell you, that no one else has written this story yet. You haven't lived until you've seen him, in glittery heels and a dress, put on the Captain Jack persona. Fabulous.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _By popular request (thank you!), a continuation of Say Hello. It's less fluffy this chapter, because I threw a tiny bit of plot in, but I hope you like it anyway. There will be more._

“Good thinking, Graham,” the Doctor says absently as she twists away from Jack’s arm and back to the console. He pouts at her, just a little, but she shakes her head with a faint frown; a whole new personality Jack will have to learn to deal with - again - and he is getting the feeling that looking pretty won’t get him far with this one. Kissing well, on the other hand, seems to hold some promise, if she ever stays still again. “Why the mauve alert, Captain?” she asks, poking at something notably out of arm’s reach. “We’re in space, did you just need a pickup again?”

“No, uh -” Jack surveys her companions again; human, which might be helpful, but they all look very 21st century. “Are any of you actual doctors?”

The expected chorus of denials includes, unexpectedly, “D’you count midwifery?” and Jack pauses, entirely willing to pursue that diversion, but the Doctor doesn’t let him.

“I am an _actual Doctor_ , Jack,” she says indignantly.

Jack eyes her doubtfully. “When did that happen, then?”

Hands on hips, the Doctor glares at him; Jack grins unrepentantly. “I am a doctor of all sorts of things. I am _the actual Doctor_ , and I’m trying to _help_ , if you could find the mental fortitude to stay on topic for more than three seconds?” Jack opens his mouth to point out that the Doctor telling other people to stay on topic is a bit pot meet kettle, but again she doesn't let him get a word in. “Is it a rescue? We can do rescues. Love a good rescue. All in a day's work for Team TARDIS.” _Team TARDIS_ , Jack mouths incredulously; Graham, whom he happens to be facing, shrugs as if to say _what can you do_. Just as prone to silliness as ever, then. Fingers click in front of his face, and the Doctor is stepping away again. “Where are we going?”

“Nowhere,” Jack says apologetically, sorry to impede her forward momentum. She pokes her head sideways around the central column to see him.

“Well, then…?”

“There's a ship down there with some complicated medical needs, including something you may not be immune to, so you are _not_ invited.” The Doctor looks ready to argue; Jack cuts her off this time. “Really no. I'm not giving you coordinates. I bubbled the whole thing up in stasis, but my vortex manipulator was damaged when we crashed. This is the limit of my range. So I figured I'd go be the beacon myself, and find help eventually.”

“You just -” Jack is sure he'll be glad, someday, to know what anger looks like on this face, but now is not the time.

“Can we discuss my decisions later,” he says flatly, without a hint of question in it. Her companions are watching them warily, back and forth like a tennis match; they know what anger looks like on her too, then. Offering the Doctor an easy out, Jack holds out his wrist. “You could fix it?” _And I'll be on my way_ , he leaves unspoken.

She just stares at him, eyes narrow, fingers clenched white-knuckled on the console. The silence stretches until Ryan breaks in hesitantly, “You need a hospital ship.” Grateful for the excuse to lose the staring match, Jack turns to him and makes an inquiring noise. “Like the Tsuranga.”

“ _Good_ thinking, Ryan! Gold star.” The Doctor is back in motion and looking much happier. “Bound to be something like that around here somewhere.”

Letting out a quiet breath of relief, Jack steps away from the console. They can hash out whichever part of that she thinks is wrong later, without an audience. “Human-crewed,” Jack specifies, “or non-humanoid. What's a Tsuranga?”

“Hospital ship,” the Doctor explains, succinctly unhelpful, as she continues to poke at the console and nibble at a biscuit she produced from somewhere. Jack rolls his eyes and looks around for a more useful explanation.

Ryan obliges. “We got blown up. Or, mostly the Doctor got blown up. She says that's her job, but -” Jack can't help the worried glance back at her; she _seems_ all in one piece - “No, a while back. We were looking for parts on a junk planet - did you know there are junk planets? Like, whole planets, made of junk? I didn’t. But we found a bomb instead.”

“Sonic mine,” Graham interjects.

“And next thing we know, we wake up on a hospital ship called the Tsuranga, with no TARDIS. And then a pting tried to eat it all.”

“And she ran off with Yaz - well, it was more like limped off -”

“With great poise and dignity,” the Doctor calls.

“- and left us,” Graham says with a gesture at Ryan, warming to his topic, “with this poor bloke who was having a baby during all this -”

“Ah,” Jack says, enlightened. “Thus the midwifery.”

“And he named it Avocado. After us,” Ryan concludes. As much as Jack has plenty of experience with scattershot amateur mission briefings, he is not sure he wants to request further clarification on any point from this group, especially the last.

“And that’s what I did on my summer hols,” Yasmin says, brightly sarcastic. Graham snorts, and Ryan looks a little embarrassed.

“No, that was good,” Jack reassures him. “A hospital ship is what I need. Thanks.”

“Got one!” the Doctor announces. “We’ll just pop in and have a bit of a chat, and send them by here. Yaz, come hold this down. Push this button when I tell you, and tell me if any of those lights change. Jack, go find something to replace you as a beacon. Probably storage room three? Two lefts after the library, down the stairs, fifth door on the right, can’t miss it.” She is still on the other side of the console, and seems determined to stay there whilst Jack is in the room. Given the quite delightful kiss to start, Jack is beginning to wonder if he hasn’t missed something important. Figuring out what’s wrong with a prickly new Time Lord is not how he had expected to be spending the next few days - but on the other hand, he had expected to be spending them dying repeatedly in space. Things generally look better from the right perspective.

He shrugs. “Sure. Back in a bit.” As he leaves the Doctor is telling Yasmin what button to push next, and thanking Ryan again for his good idea, and generally _not_ being grumpy and difficult with anyone who isn’t Jack. But it does not escape his notice that the Doctor has offered neither help with his vortex manipulator nor a quick shove out the door.

He seems to be staying, for now.

-+-+-+-


	3. Chapter 3

Back to an arching crystal column, Jack sits at the edge of the console platform and takes in the new desktop. He hadn't had time to properly admire, earlier, but these hours when mortal humans sleep are his alone. The TARDIS is showing off, he thinks, lighting shifting patterns under the platform, sending cascades of light through the walls; it's all much more organic than he has seen in a very long time. Her song is quiet and content, and Jack pulls a knee up and relaxes. “You're a wonder, sweetheart. You've outdone yourself this time.”

Eyes drawn up and around by the sweeping lines and shifting shapes, Jack's gaze eventually comes to rest on the Doctor; of course he shares these hours, here. She stands still and silent by the door and Jack has seen enough of her by now to feel it profoundly unnatural. “I don't bite,” Jack calls. “Unless you want me to.”

Shoulders falling as she sighs, the Doctor looks him over. Her jaunty pushed-up sleeves have fallen unevenly back down her arms and her hair obscures part of her face. She doesn't look angry, just tired and wary. “I didn't ask her to find you.”

“Alright. Do you want me to leave?” Straight to the point; Jack can do that.

Looking away, the Doctor goes to the console, checks gauges and pokes at mechanisms Jack can't see from where he sits. Finally she says quietly, “No.”

Jack waits, but she says nothing else. “Then what _do_ you want? Not flirting, or touching, or talking, apparently.”

“Ah,” the Doctor says. And then, “Oh,” and comes to sit by Jack. “This is the first time you've seen this me,” she says, not quite a question, not quite looking at him.

“Yes.” Then the other shoe drops. “But not the first time you've seen me.”

“No.” She pushes her sleeves back up, stares at her hands. “No. Sorry. That makes more sense, then - no, it doesn’t!” Turning quickly, she jabs him in the chest again.

Startled, Jack rubs the sore spot. “Ow! You need to cut that out. It doesn’t?”

“No! Even if this is the first time you’ve seen this me, you’re not so young you don’t know I hate when you _kill yourself!_ ”

Mouth open, Jack just stares at her for a moment. He has always loved seeing the Doctor angry; some failure of his self-preservation instinct, or just another of his risk seeking tendencies, who knows, but it’s quite the rush. Even when directed at himself. Not that he would deliberately provoke her… much. “Is _that_ why you were angry? It’s not like I was expecting you to drop by.”

“Weren’t you?” She hops to her feet and paces away.

“No, I wasn’t. I never _expect_ you,” Jack insists, when she turns to pin him with a suspicious look. “Damned if I’m going to set myself up for that kind of disappointment. Look, Doc, I know it bothers you when I do stupid things, but I didn’t think… _that_ much. And it wasn’t particularly stupid, in context.” Not that that argument is likely to get him anywhere.

The Doctor stares down at him, arms crossed. “Well it does. Don’t.”

“Alright. I’m sorry.” She scoffs, and Jack smiles as he reaches a hand up to her. He hadn’t expected that to work; it is reassuring to feel as if he is starting to catch up. “Well, don’t give me ridiculous orders, then. I am sorry I upset you. Come back?” Eyes narrow, the Doctor glares at him for a moment more, then drops down emphatically in the space between his legs and leans back against him. “ _Oh_. That’s more like it…” Jack hums happily as the Doctor shifts about, getting comfortable; he wraps an arm around her when she is finally still, kisses her temple. “What else did I do wrong?”

“Oh.” Fidgeting, the Doctor tucks her hand inside his and laces their fingers together, then unlaces them and simply lets his hand enclose hers. “It’s just - this new me. It’s remarkably disorientating, sometimes, being all new. Done it before, of course, plenty of times,” she adds defensively. Jack nods, hoping to reassure. “Though I’ve never got any better at it. Everything works wrong, everything fits wrong, everything feels wrong. And this time, people keep acting like I’m… I don’t know.” Shaking her head, the Doctor waves her free hand dismissively. “Most of the time, it's fine. I'm just me, different me but I'm getting used to it. But… I need you to not treat me any differently, Jack, that's all. Do flirt, even if I'm a bear. Do touch. But don't… even this is hard right now.” Swallowing tightly, she stares at their joined hands. “My hands are too small.”

“You told your friends I wouldn't treat you differently,” Jack realises, feeling a little sick, “and then I tried to joke about you being different. I'm sorry.” Her hand rests inside his, fine-boned and delicate, and he resists the urge to tighten his fingers around it protectively.

“Yes. You always make it better. And then… you didn't.”

Jack flinches. “I'm -”

“It's not your fault,” the Doctor says quickly. “I didn't mean it like that. I was just surprised. Reacted badly. I'm sorry. It hits me hard sometimes; we've just been to seventeenth century England.”

“Oh. Shit, yeah, that would… uh.” Jack shakes his head. Of course it's hard; she has been many sorts of people in the past, but generally not the sort that gets disregarded on sight. Or one with a female-type body, as far as he knows. Whatever her internal sense of gender might be, that’s bound to be an odd change at first; and here he is, providing stark contrast. But she said he usually helps. “I'll figure it out.”

Twisting so she can see him, the Doctor sits up a bit and says reassuringly, “Yes, you will. We will. I am different; I'm different all the way through. But you never seem to mind.”

“No. No, I don't mind at all. Never will,” Jack promises. Carefully, he tucks her hair behind her ear, strokes her cheek with his thumb. A small smile hovers around the corners of her mouth, not quite taking root, and Jack winks saucily. “Don't worry, I couldn't hold myself back around you if I tried.”

The smile blooms. “ _If_ you tried.”

“I really don't,” he agrees, and doesn't.

-+-+-+-

 


	4. Chapter 4

When Jack goes hunting for coffee the next morning, he finds Graham in the kitchen, reading a book over an empty plate and nursing a cup of tea. Jack nods to him, fixes his coffee, and sits at the table as well. The coffee in the TARDIS is always real, somehow, and worth taking the time to savour. After a few sips he notices Graham watching him over his book and tilts his cup in invitation.

“You’re a bit scary, mate.”

“Good morning to you, too.” Then Jack pauses, surprised. “ _I’m_ scary?”

Graham waves his book toward the door. “Getting in her way when she’s angry, it’s like staring down a freight train. You two staring each other down, we were waiting for the wreck.”

“Huh.” Novel idea, to think of himself in the Doctor’s weight class. It’s not how it had looked from his end - Jack had very distinctly had the _staring down a freight train_ experience - but it’s interesting to get an outside perspective. Eventually, of course… eventually he’ll be able to stare down anyone. He shakes his head, takes another sip of coffee. “Next question.”

“What do you do, then?”

“Bit of everything,” Jack says, wondering if it is genuine curiosity or simply a conversation starter.

“Aside from being an actual doctor?” Conversation starter then; he’s being interviewed by the family. Hiding a smile, Jack settles in and considers how to answer the inevitable _so how did you two meet?_

“Aside from that, yes. And a few other things I haven’t got to yet. Daring rescues, dangerous missions, and cleaning up other people’s messes are my specialties. I can cook a meal, sail a ship, keep books, and build walls as well, at need.” Graham’s book slowly comes to rest on the table as Jack makes his list; he grins, and adds politely, “You?”

“Well, you know, I, erm. Drive a bus. When I’m not -” He waves a hand vaguely. “Here.”

“Exploring time and space? I haven’t tried driving a bus yet,” Jack admits. “Is it interesting?” Which leads to a significant digression, but it does sound interesting.

Eventually Graham realises he has strayed from his mission, and asks abruptly, “You and the Doc - she said you go way back?”

Jack laughs, and gets up for more coffee. “Yes. Way back. Nearly all of my life.” He turns around to watch, because he always enjoys the next line. “Met him when I was thirty seven.”

Eyebrows colliding incredulously, Graham looks him over. “You don’t look thirty seven _now_.”

“Something happened. I got stuck.” Jack shrugs. “That was -”

“Don’t believe anything he tells you, Graham!” the Doctor’s cheerful voice cuts in, followed by the Doctor herself. “Notorious rogue and scoundrel, this one.”

“He just wanted to know how we met. I think it’s sweet they’re so protective of you.” Jack mostly says it for the glare the Doctor sends his way, but the faint flush on Graham’s face as he realises Jack has been humoring him is amusing as well.

“You were a rogue and a scoundrel then, too,” she says, marching to the fridge. Jack lounges back against the counter, making himself a little shorter, as she pulls it open and sticks her head inside. “Where’s the milk?”

“Here.”

Straightening, the Doctor turns to stare at him; it feels rather as though all the motion in the room pauses with her. After a moment, she holds her hand out. “Give it here.” Jack grins, and shakes his head. “ _Jack_. I’m not playing games.”

Aware that he is treading a delicate line, Jack drops the grin for a wry smile and holds his hand out as well. “It’s not that kind of game. But come get it.” Her eyes flicker toward Graham but Jack doesn’t move. Somewhere there is a middle ground where he continues to play the shameless scoundrel whilst trying to minimise the ways in which the Doctor rubs up uncomfortably against her differences, and he intends to find it. She takes a step forward; Jack doesn’t move until her hand meets his, then he pulls her gently in.

Leaning her forehead against his cheek, she says, very quietly, “Please don’t push.”

“Only this much,” he promises equally quietly, arm tight around her for just a moment before he lets her go with the milk she has retrieved from behind his back. If he doesn’t push at all there’s no point in him staying, and they both know it.

The Doctor steps away, still watching him from the corner of her eye, and raises the bottle of milk thoughtlessly toward her mouth; her hand stops at Jack’s smirk. Even with this excess of companions she apparently still spends quite a bit of time alone. He nudges a cup toward her and she scowls at him as she silently fills it, drinks it, and sets it back down more forcefully than necessary.

Graham clears his throat; they both turn to stare at him, startled, and he recoils. “Sorry, Doc, I’ll just -”

“Centuries,” Jack says, turning back to continue making himself another coffee.

“Do believe that part,” the Doctor agrees grudgingly. “It’s alright, Graham. But don’t believe anything _else_ he says.”

Jack smiles to himself. “I almost wiped out the human race. Most people who start like that don't even get to first base.”

The Doctor knocks the back of his head lightly as she leaves. “Yes, _alright_ Jack; and neither did you for quite a while. That swollen head is going to get you in trouble one day…”

When he turns, she is gone and Graham is watching him warily. “You did?”

“What, haven’t you done, yet? Time travel isn’t a walk in the park or a magical fix-it, no matter what she tells you.” Graham looks away, but not before Jack sees a flash of something in his eyes, grief or maybe anger. “Yeah, I did. I didn’t mean to, but I was stupid and cocky and thought I knew a lot more than I did. Don’t do that.”

“Wasn't planning on it,” Graham replies stiffly.

Jack shakes his head. “She has enemies, but I’m not one of them. I’m not yours, either. I doubt I'll be staying long, I rarely do, but until then,” he raises his coffee cup to Graham, “I will just say that helping the Doctor is very nearly my _raison d'être_ , and I won't see harm come to her if it's within my power to prevent it. Good enough?”

“If I believe it,” Graham agrees.

“Believe it.”

-+-+-+-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Jack’s list is a reference to a quote from Robert Heinlein’s character Lazarus Long. “A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.” Dying gallantly, of course, not being something Jack would tend to claim proficiency at to new acquaintances._


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The last chapter. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope it satisfies!_

“Alright, gang,” the Doctor announces, clapping her hands. “We’ve seen mud monsters and King James, been to Mox Majora and the Wells of Ikeknifar, saved a ship and rescued a Captain. Again. That’s an ongoing thing. Couldn’t stay out of trouble if you -” She spots Jack’s grin and cuts herself off. Takes one to know one, after all. “Anyway. Thought I’d drop you back home for a bit, you can get caught up on all that tea-at-Yaz’s and busdriver-gossip and social-media-ing. Good?”

Smiling reassuringly at her, Graham says, “Sounds good, Doc. Same time next week?”

“Count on it.”

“You’ll be alright?” Yaz is eyeing the Doctor worriedly. “With… I mean. Would you like to come for tea again?”

The Doctor grins at her. “‘Course I’ll be alright. I’ll come up and have tea when I’m back next week. Say hi to your mum for me?”

As she gets them all herded toward the door, Jack steps out of the shadows he was lurking in to say his farewells. Very easy to disappear into the edges, in this room; his sort of place. Not that he can hide from the Doctor. Yaz looks a little startled as he materialises in the ring of light of the central platform; Ryan jumps.

“Don’t _do_ that, mate, you some kind of ghost?” he laughs, hand over his heart, and Jack chuckles.

“Live long enough, you learn how to stand still. Well.” He glances at the Doctor, who is contorting herself to look at something underneath the console in the momentary distraction. “Some people do.”

Standing up quickly, she bumps her head and frowns at him as if it were his fault. “What’s the point, when you could be doing something more interesting?”

Jack shrugs. “Scaring people?” he suggests, and Ryan laughs. He’s a good kid; they’re all good, and good for the Doctor.

When she turns back from saying goodbye he has faded into the shadows again. “That doesn’t work on me, you know,” she points out, staring at him. “I can hardly _help_ seeing you.” She comes to stand at the edge of the platform. “You just like lurking.”

Jack steps forward, giving her a chance to back away if she wants. They are eye to eye, now. “I just wanted to lure you over here,” he says softly, searching her face for clues; as expressive as she is now, he can’t yet read the subtle flickers of emotion beneath. “Will you stop hiding, now?”

“Probably not,” the Doctor admits, but she doesn’t retreat. Instead her hands come to rest on his chest, one over his heart, the other, after a moment, slowly roaming up to curve around his shoulder, slide up the side of his neck. Tilting his head, Jack shivers as her fingers twine through the short hair at the back of his neck like trickles of cool water. “ _You_ feel the same, at least, whatever else changes. You smell the same. You shiver the same.” Her lips meet Jack’s, her tongue, and he closes his eyes in pleasure as she explores his mouth, taking her time but not the least bit hesitant. “You taste the same.”

Jack smiles at her and does not say, _you don’t_. Very similar, but never quite the same. Wrapping his arms around her, he lets a hand stray down her backside, pulls her close; after all, he is meant to be treating her the same as ever.

“You take liberties the same,” the Doctor grumbles, but she can’t quite hide the smile.

“Can’t keep my hands off you,” Jack agrees, forbearing to mention who started the kissing this time. “You wouldn’t believe the amount of self-control it’s taken to get through the morning. Couldn’t stop thinking about kissing you, not for a minute since that hello; couldn’t stop thinking about the feel of your hair,” his hand creeps up into her hair again, its liquid movement a delight against his skin, “about how you left me breathless, about all the things I want you to do to me -”

“Oh?” the Doctor says, amused. “Just been wandering around my TARDIS thinking lascivious thoughts, have you?”

“Same as ever,” Jack promises with a grin.

She shakes her head. “How did you ever survive centuries without seeing me?”

Jack laughs. “It's been quite a while but it's never been _that_ long.” Unexpectedly she flinches and looks away guiltily, and Jack feels a little unsteady. Of course he has these things to look forward to, and worse. “Yet?”

“I'm sorry, Jack. I…” She looks back at him. “Stay, for a little?”

“Yes,” he sighs, laying his head against her shoulder. “Please.” Let tomorrow worry about tomorrow; here and now is where he wants to be, today.

The Doctor holds him to her reassuringly for a moment, then backs away, smiling impishly, tugging at his hand. More than willing for whatever she has in mind, Jack follows. “You've seen her glorious new look,” the Doctor says, gesturing widely, “but have you seen -” she steps on a lever, “the _biscuit dispenser?_ ” With a flourish, she offers Jack a custard cream. “Never had a biscuit dispenser before! I love biscuits.”

Shoving it in his mouth whole, Jack comments, “Swanky.” He is perfectly capable of table manners, of course, but he has already discovered that her new face scrunches up adorably in dismay - there it goes.

“ _Jack_. There's really no excuse -” Or at least not one he should inform her of, at the moment. He grins instead and the Doctor rolls her eyes. “I don't know why I keep you around.”

“Oh, yes, you do,” Jack murmurs, catching her in his arms again. “She's gorgeous and I've told her so, but it's always you I'm here for.”

“Laying it on a bit thick, aren't you?”

“Not at all. I'm trying to seduce you.” That, finally, makes her laugh, and Jack smiles down at her happily. “Is it working?”

“Not at all,” she lies with a smile. “You’ve crumbs just - there. You'll have to try much harder, I don't do subtle.”

Rolling his eyes, Jack picks what looks like a safe spot along the edge of the console and sits down, pulls the Doctor to stand between his legs. “We need to discuss the meaning of the word _subtle_ , Doctor, because this ain’t it. I think your friends might have noticed something when I came back from the dead just to kiss you.”

“Well, like I said.” The Doctor takes a half step forward, and now he’s in trouble, her thigh pressed against him firm and intimate, trapping him there. All turned around on him again, just like that kiss at first. She smiles at him expectantly, cheerfully unaffected and very unsubtle. “I took my friends home. All this waiting around, definitely not me. So, go on.”

Jack’s mouth has gone dry. Every little movement she makes - “What?”

“Oh, come on. You're a smart man, Jack Harkness.” A hand slips inside his shirt, cool and achingly familiar. She pauses, then rolls her eyes when Jack just stares at her, wide-eyed. He's lost the thread somewhere, something about subtlety? No, the Doctor doesn't do that. Seduction? “On the plus side, I _know_ you don’t get this flustered for anyone else. _Try harder_ , Jack.”

-+-+-+-

 


End file.
